


Faith

by Pigzxo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e07 Unhuman Nature, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, but in what way i couldn't tell you, i literally just wrote this and reread it so sorry it's not perfect, of some sort, spoiler: but majorly about jack dying, they have definitely acknowledged this is more than friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Jack might die. Dean prays. He prays to Cas. Cas knows there's nothing he can do to help, but he tries.





	Faith

Dean got down on his knees for the first time in years. He knew it was useless. He knew there was no chance it would change a damn thing. But a little niggling voice in his head told him it used to, told him he used to have faith, that he used to hope. And so, he got down on his knees, rested his elbows on the mattress, and bent his head to pray.

            Not a moment later, the flutter of wings sounded in the hall beyond and a knock came at the door. Dean turned his head to look as Cas stepped through the door. He looked older somehow, older than he’d looked just minutes before. He’d shed the trench coat and loosened his tie. The shadow of stubble showed on his cheeks.

            “You know there’s nothing I can do.” The words sounded like an apology.

            “Yeah.” Dean pushed up from the bed and then turned to sit down. He clasped his hands between his knees and focused on Cas’ feet. He couldn’t see his own heartbreak reflected back in Cas’ face. He couldn’t stand not being able to come up with a rousing speech or a solution or even a hope past praying. “I know.”

            Cas sat down beside him and knocked their knees together. “I would if I could.”

            “I know.”

            Dean stared at the place where their knees touched, the place where the warmth of Cas’ body made the pain in his chest just a little more bearable – which was saying a lot, considering it felt unbearable. Dean had died. He had sold his soul. He had started an apocalypse, taken on the mark of Cain, made Lisa forget him, and said yes to Michael. Somehow all of that pain had been bearable in comparison to potentially losing Jack.

            “Why were you praying?”

            “Habit.”

            He felt Cas’ eyes on his face.

            “You haven’t for a while,” he said.

            Dean nodded, the motion barely there. He felt the creeping awkwardness of their knees touching but ignored the panic swelling in his chest. The warmth was all that mattered, that one spot where they connected, where the world felt like it was still spinning in the right direction. But it hadn’t spun that way in a while, had it?

            “I didn’t have a reason to,” Dean replied.

            “I wish I could help,” Cas said, “like I used to.”

            “Well, I figured you were a better bet than Chuck.” He tried to smile but the joke sounded flat even to his own ears.

            “You’ve never prayed to him.”

            “Yeah.” Dean looked up and met Cas’ clear blue eyes. “Why would I? I’ve got you.”

            Cas touched the back of his neck, his fingers spreading up into the thin hairs there. His touch was steadying, warming, and Dean felt his pain subside further. The glow of Cas’ grace made the room a little bright but he didn’t rebuff him, didn’t tell him to save his strength; he just held Cas’ gaze.

            “I only ever had faith in you,” he whispered.

            Cas nodded, his expression somber as he continued to massage calming energy into the nape of Dean’s neck. “I can’t fix this,” he said. “I would do anything to be able to...” His voice cracked and he looked away.

            Before he could pull away completely, Dean grabbed onto his retreating hand and held it tight in both of his. Cas looked back. Dean squeezed his fingers. “I know. Look, I... I know. I wasn’t praying in the hopes you’d be different or more powerful or care more. I just... I needed you. Here.”

            “You could have walked down the hall.”

            Now Dean did smile.

            Cas smiled back.

            “Stay?”

            “It’s late.”

            Dean shifted up the bed and lay back into the pillows. He patted the spot next to him. Cas stared for a long moment, his expression calculating and somber. Then he shed his suit jacket and shuffled up the bed himself. He lay facing Dean, one arm curled under his head. Dean could smell the toothpaste on his breath and the sunshine on his hands. He reached forward and brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair again, calming energy flowing over both of them.

            “Don’t waste your energy on me,” Dean whispered, getting sleepy.

            “Let me do something.” Cas shifted closer and his words sent hot air over Dean’s face. “Let me make someone better.”

            Dean hummed. “You always make me better.”


End file.
